A Lowcountry Bride by Preslaysa Williams

Today was Maya’s chance to get extra money. She awakened early and worked for a few hours on her design concept for Ashley Tate’s gown and took pictures of her gown for the head designer position. Both were as good as she was going to get them, so Maya emailed the design concept and images to Laura. Hopefully, Laura would like at least one of them. Maya also wrote a quick note about her plans to scout bridal shops later this week.

Afterward, Maya quickly got dressed and headed to her car with two gowns and her portfolio in hand. She left the rest of her gowns at home. Her heart beat triple time as she considered her impending meeting with Derek at the boutique. He sounded hunky on the phone when he called her at the bank, but she wasn’t thinking about all of that. Correction: She shouldn’t be thinking that. This was business.

If she could convince him to purchase at least three of her dresses, that would not only cover her rent for future months, but it would also cover some of her father’s medical expenses.

That would be a huge blessing.

Minutes after paying the parking meter, she headed down Queen Street. A sting of pain seized her calf muscles. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Please, not another episode,” she whispered to herself.

Maya leaned against the window of Gus’s Diner. Why’d her life have to be so complicated? Why’d she have to fight through this illness?

The doctor had warned her against overdosing on her medications, but she really wanted to do so now. A thousand tiny needles pricked up her thighs and around her back. No. No. No. I’ll get through this. This morning’s dosage was enough.

Once she got the chance, she’d make an appointment with a local doctor ASAP.

She quickly dug in her purse for her bottle of hydroxyurea. She took it like clockwork every single day, and she hadn’t missed this morning’s dose. Should she take extra to ease the pain? There was no way she could pitch her dresses to Derek like this.

Maya was used to sucking it up and downplaying her illness in front of others. Once her parents had alerted the school nurse of her symptoms, it seemed like everyone started treating her like she was helpless. Maya hated it. So she learned to push past her illness and show that she was just as capable as her sickle cell anemia–free classmates.

Yet as Maya grew older, the symptoms became more and more burdensome. Eventually, sickle cell anemia would win.

The notion gnawed at her. It was the one thing driving her to do something with her life before she died.

“Push through this, Maya,” she said. She stood away from the diner’s window and shook out her legs. Moments later, the pain subsided. “Thank you, God. Back to normal.”

Maya kept walking down the sidewalk and inhaled the crisp spring air. It flooded her lungs and soothed the aches she’d just experienced. This weather was a welcome reprieve from the humidity, which had been typical for the past few days in Charleston. The palmettos provided areas of shade from the sunlight. That was one thing she missed about the Lowcountry—the soothing weather, the friendly smiles, and the easygoing nature of the community.

Yet there were few opportunities to get high-profile clients and make a name for herself in South Carolina, which was another reason she moved to New York.

Maya hooked a right onto State Street and adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. Tucked inside of her purse, alongside her medicine, was her portfolio. She hadn’t had a chance to show it to Derek on her first visit to the boutique. She’d do so today.

The white oval sign, which read always a bride est. 1984, came into view. It swung on its rusted hinges, keeping time with the lazy breeze. Salty dots of sweat formed on her upper lip. She was used to selling Laura Whitcomb’s gowns. Selling her own designs was nerve-racking, but she put on her self-assured face anyway. “Here goes nothing, Maya,” she whispered, and mustered up her confidence. “Time to sell.”

She opened the door. No one was in sight. Derek must be in the back office or something. He’d probably come out soon, now that he heard the bell.

Maya set her purse on the counter and took out her portfolio. On her first visit to the shop, she hadn’t had much time to take in the space. Now that all was quiet, she did.

The paint was 1980s bland, with its mustard tinge. The carpet beneath her feet was an old, dull brown. This place needed a makeover.

“Hey, Maya,” Derek called from behind.

Maya turned, and her heart fluttered at the sight of him. He wore a crisp collared shirt, a pair of dark brown khakis with matching loafers that shined. Business casual and handsome.

Did she just think of Derek as handsome again? Maya sighed. Guess it wasn’t a problem to notice someone’s looks, but she sure wasn’t going to get entangled by it.

“I hope I’m not too early,” she replied, pushing aside any thoughts of his attractiveness.

“Not early at all.” He gestured to the portfolio lying on the countertop. “What did you bring?”

“Have a look.” She gestured to her designs and smiled.

Derek stepped closer, and Maya caught a whiff of his light cologne. She needed to stop noticing these little things about him. She was here to sell dresses, not to flirt.

“Nice work.” He flipped through the designs. “Although, as a relatively new owner of the store, I only have a cursory knowledge of what sells and what doesn’t around here. And with Ginger retiring soon, I don’t know how I’ll manage. I’ve been searching for help.”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” she said, surprised by her confidence. “Remember that it’s not so much about the dresses, it’s about making the brides feel like royalty.”

“Royalty, huh?”

“Yes.”

Derek didn’t respond. Instead he kept studying her work. “Last time I looked at this, I was taken aback by the wholesale prices. Those prices may work in New York, but not down here.”

“They’re worth every dollar—or thousand,” she said, smiling. “You know that, or else you wouldn’t have called me back.”

A note of hesitation danced across his features. “Yes, about that. I was thinking of a consignment arrangement for your gowns. You can pay the store twenty dollars per dress, nonrefundable, for showing the dresses. I was thinking we can have six or seven dresses on consignment.”

Consignment? That wasn’t good. A dress sale wouldn’t be guaranteed.

“If they sell, we take a ten percent fee from the retail price,” he continued. “You can keep the rest. This will help me keep the costs down while you get a place to show off your work. I think that’s a fair deal. I’m offering you low enough costs.”

She twisted her mouth. Selling on consignment wasn’t the same as selling her dresses to him outright and on wholesale. Would consignment be worth it? What if she didn’t sell them? Then her efforts would’ve been wasted.

“You don’t have to give me an answer today, if you’re still wavering,” Derek added with a smile.

Maya would give an answer today. “Selling clothes on consignment would be nice, but I have bills to pay too. I’d like to have some steady income to cover the costs of my future months of rent. While it’s a nice offer, I can’t accept it.”

Derek drummed his fingers on the counter. “Understood. We all have to take care of our responsibilities. I have a responsibility to this store. To make sure it’s fiscally sound.”

A faint wash of disappointment welled up within her, and then the disappointment grew stronger and stronger. It was bad enough that Laura wasn’t paying her, but now she wouldn’t even be able to cover her rent while she was down here in South Carolina. What would she do if she fell behind and got evicted? Her current place in New York was the best deal she could find, and it was pricey.

This was getting worse and worse.

“I have an idea,” Derek said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “I’m looking for a new buyer and store manager, and you’re looking for some steady income while you’re in Charleston. How about I hire you to work here temporarily?”

Maya bit her lower lip. “You want me to work here?”

“Yes. Until you move back to New York, of course. I really need the assistance. It’ll also give me some time to gather my bearings until I find a permanent employee.”

“Would I still sell my clothes on consignment?” she asked.

“You sure can. You definitely can.”

“I still have to take my father to his physical therapy appointments.”

“Oh. That’s right. You have to care for your father. You’re more than welcome to take your father to his physical therapy during business hours. I wouldn’t be able to pay you for that time, of course, but you’ll have that flexibility.” A flit of sadness crossed his features. “Family is important to me.”

This could work. This would be perfect, actually. While she awaited Laura’s decision on the promotion and the Ashley Tate gig, she’d work here. “You have a deal. I’ll work here temporarily, and I’ll bring seven gowns for consignment tomorrow.”

They shook hands, and Maya smiled. This wasn’t exactly what she was looking for when she walked into the boutique today, but it was a great way to make sure her finances would stay on track.

Derek was turning out to be a handsome blessing in disguise.

Two days had passed since she’d accepted Derek’s offer, and Maya had grown more accustomed to the idea of working at the boutique. It would be perfect. Not only would Maya earn extra cash and potentially sell some of her dresses, but she might even teach him a few things about the bridal gown trade during her time.

Her father was thrilled that she got the job, if only for the fact that Maya wouldn’t be around all day to bug him. Maya had a plan for that too. She intended to call him during her breaks and lunch, just to check in on him. Of course, she’d also take him to all of his doctor’s appointments.

From the looks of the boutique, the store was in desperate need of a makeover. Ginger’s last day of work was today, and Ginger probably hadn’t had the energy to devote to sprucing the place up. Perhaps Maya would help Derek in the aesthetics department as well.

Never mind that he also happened to be incredibly good-looking. He was her boss now. When she arrived at work today, she’d try to convince him to do a makeover of the store.

She might even take before and after pictures and show Laura that her skills extended beyond the outfits. She could also try to convince Laura on having her high-end merchandise featured in this store. Yes, Laura said that she was wary of having her gowns merchandised in such a “dingy and small” setting, but Maya had to do something to make sure she didn’t fall off her radar. Maybe that would be it.

As Maya walked toward the boutique, she reached in her purse to get her prescription medicine. It was time for another dose, but then she saw that the bottle was empty.

Darn it. Why’d she leave the refill at home? It was too late to return home and get her medication. If Maya did, she’d be late for her first day at work.

Maya swung her oversized purse over her shoulder and kept walking. This downtown area really was a charming little place for a shop like Derek’s. The palmettos lining the cobblestone street, the benches situated around, and the friendly faces made this a welcome venue for tourists.

In the distance stood the Black history museum, the place that Laura had expressed disdain about. To Maya, the museum added depth to the Lowcountry. It was also a reminder of how far Black Americans like Maya had come.

Maya shielded her eyes from the sun and took another look at the museum. Ever since moving to New York City, she hadn’t come back to South Carolina often, but her mother’s fashion design influence served as a constant reminder to remember the past.

Maya arrived at Always a Bride and saw Derek talking to a man with a tablet in the crook of his arm.

Derek glanced her way and waved. “Morning, Maya.”

Maya waved in return.

“Marlon, this is Maya, our new employee. She’s taking Ginger’s place temporarily.”

“You didn’t tell me you were hiring additional staff.” Marlon’s tone was clipped. “You can’t afford to pay employees.”

Her body tightened. So her first day of work looked like it was going to become her last day of work too.

“Maya is needed here. I cannot go at this alone. She brings a wealth of experience. Besides, it’s not an additional salary. It’s a replacement salary. No harm to the budget.”

The corners of Marlon’s mouth ticked into a frown.

“Marlon is the accountant for the boutique,” Derek said to Maya. “He’s been helping me keep things on track.”

“Oh.”

Marlon gestured to his tablet. An intricate spreadsheet was on the screen. “If you intend to keep her on the payroll, guess I’ll crunch the numbers to be one hundred percent certain that it’ll work.”

“It will work.” Derek smiled at Maya, and a sense of gratitude flowed through her.

“You’ll have to give me the HR information for your new employee,” Marlon said, and focused his attention on Maya. “Welcome to Always a Bride.”

“Thank . . .” Maya’s cheeks heated by fifty degrees. She stepped to the right and a wave of dizziness overcame her. Oh no. The medicine. She didn’t have her medicine.

Maya feigned calm and leaned on a dress rack for support. The rack turned on its wheels, and she stumbled backward. She righted herself to quickly play it off.

Embarrassing. She glanced over at Derek and Marlon. Had they spotted her millisecond of clumsiness? They seemed unperturbed and in conversation about the store’s finances. Could mean they didn’t notice. The last thing she needed was to show sickle cell symptoms at work.

Derek glanced at her. “You okay?”

Oh geez. She couldn’t let on about her health issues. “I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”

Derek didn’t seem convinced.

Her heart beat quicker, and she could feel a sheen of sweat on her upper lip. Oh God, please help me through this. Please. Please. Please. Maya wrapped her palm around the cool metal dress rack, careful not to lean against it and embarrass herself again.

“Guess I better get moving to my next appointment.” Marlon powered off his tablet and checked the time on his smartphone. “Nice meeting you, Maya.” His voice carried a note of restraint.

She nodded in response, not wanting to say something and end up in a coughing fit.

After Marlon left, Maya breathed deeply. The pain then subsided. Thank goodness.

“Don’t mind Marlon. He’s just . . . Marlon.”

“I understand.”

“Ginger should be here later this afternoon. I can’t believe today’s her last day.”

“You’ll manage,” Maya said.

“We hope.” Derek scratched the back of his neck as if he wanted to say more.

Instead, they looked at each other. And looked. And looked. A current passed between them, an invisible electricity that made her uncomfortable. She surveyed the store, a poor attempt to shake off the sensation. “What do you need me to do?”

“You can sort the dresses and shoes. They got mixed up after the big sale.”

A sorting project. Easy peasy. Maya took a few more deep breaths to get her bearings and negotiate around her symptoms. They were gone now, but who knew what could happen?

Why didn’t she put the refill in her purse? Just the other week, she was chiding her father for his forgetfulness. Ever since she came down south, she was getting forgetful too. Like this place made her not so regimented or something. Or perhaps the worry surrounding her father was getting to her.

She headed over to the pile of dresses and sorted them according to size and color. Mindless busywork, but a great distraction from what she’d just felt. Maya hung two lightweight gowns over her forearm and inspected the tags on the dresses. They were both from well-known designers and competitors of Laura Whitcomb Inc. “What are your most popular dress lines?”

He shrugged. “Leilanis. Versaces. Vera Wangs. The usual big-name designers are always popular.”

“Only big names, huh?”

“They’re the safest bet.”

“True, and I’m grateful that you’re giving my dresses a chance.” She grabbed an empty hanger and shoved her hair out of her face. “Seeing some of my dresses on sale here is encouraging.”

“All those designers were once ordinary people looking for a break,” Derek said in that confident way she’d been noticing.

“Of course.” Maya hung a gown on the hanger. “I’m hoping to make that break at my New York job. I’m applying to be head designer, and I hope to get the gig when I return. It would be a dream come true . . .” Her voice trailed off. The desire she had for the position had overwhelmed her. “The competition is tight in New York.”

“You shouldn’t worry about that. I don’t know much about these dress styles, but”—he gestured to two of her dresses now hanging on the clothing racks—“I know yours are unique, different.”

“You’re too kind.” She smiled.

“Not kind. Just telling the truth.”

“I want to make my mark in the bridal gown industry. I want to make something so good that Laura will be super impressed. I’ve been designing for a while, and I’ve had a lot of hits and misses along the way. Life is so short.” Sadness hit her. “I want to make the most of my talents while I’m here.”

Derek put a shoe on display. “Pretty sure you have a lot of years ahead of you.”

Maya didn’t say a word.

He reached for a dress strewn across a footstool, his mouth curved into a wry smile. “Your career matters a lot to you, huh?”

“It does.”

He put the dress on the counter and wrote something on a clipboard. “Somehow I think you’ll be very successful as a designer.”

A thrill rushed through her. “You do?”

“Definitely. I’m usually right about my hunches.”

His store was failing financially, and the space definitely needed a makeover. His hunches may not be too spot-on.

Derek continued arranging the shoes. He studied the display for a good while, and a dimple formed on his cheek. Way too cute.

“Can you help me arrange these shoes, Maya? There are mountains of them everywhere.”

“Sure.” Maya bent to pick up the stray shoes. Derek knelt next to her, doing the same. She scooched around him and avoided eye contact, hand contact, elbow contact—any contact. When she moved away an inch, he moved closer by two inches. On top of that, his cologne was intoxicating.

Flustered by this sudden man invasion, she headed toward a nearby ecru settee, but tripped on a shoebox, which toppled over. The lid flew across the store.

Then a sudden dizziness overcame her. Everything blurred and hazed in front of her face.

Oh no. Here we go again.

Maya tried to right herself but failed to judge her distance from the bench. As she sat, her bottom hit the floor. Hard. A sharp pain shot up her spine. “Aargh!”

He reached out his hand to help her up, and she grabbed it.

“Are you all right?”

Her pulse accelerated and her breath shortened. “Fine, thank you.”

“You look like you’re glistening.”

Trying to appear calm, she focused on a spot on the wall. “I . . . I’m good. Just a little out of breath.” She took one step back.

“Here.” Derek pulled the settee toward her. “Sit.”

She plopped down, happy to find the padding underneath her this time. A few deep breaths and her pulse slowed, steadied, then returned to something approaching normal.

“How do you feel now?”

“Great!” she squeaked. Why did she squeak?

He sat next to her. “Positive? You seem shaky.”

She really needed her medications. “No problems here,” she double-squeaked.

“If you’re not feeling well, let me know.”

“Okay.” Maya forced a smile and tried to sound like the most composed, most together, most cosmopolitan woman on the planet. Yeah, right.

Maya mentally whispered a prayer-plea that her symptoms would go away, quickly. She couldn’t risk a painful episode. If Derek knew she was ill—if anyone knew she was ill—she’d be treated like she was weak, and she hated when people said she was helpless.

“I can get you some water,” he said.

“I’ll get it myself. Thank you.” She scooted to the edge of the seat, stood up, and headed to the break room. Unease rolled through her body. Once there, Maya grabbed an unopened water bottle from the fridge and guzzled it down.

Maya stood and waited a few seconds to regain her orientation. Then she returned to the sales floor and resumed rearranging the shoes, wrapping them in tissue paper, shoving them into boxes. Derek watched her from behind, but she didn’t crack or crumble.

No more weakness, Maya. No more weakness. Her mother’s words echoed in her heart.